


Make the World Go Away

by KaenChaos



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-01 18:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenChaos/pseuds/KaenChaos
Summary: It ain’t all fun being the vault nuisance. Okay, maybe it’s a little fun, but you have to be business-like when the overseer cuts you part of his deal. A nuisance for hire ain’t a bad living you just gotta watch your back.





	1. Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bored and decided to attempt my first fanfic. Hopefully, it doesn't make your eyes bleed.  
> 

_It ain’t all fun being the vault nuisance. Okay, maybe it’s a little fun, but you have to be business-like when the overseer cuts you part of his deal. A nuisance for hire ain’t a bad living you just gotta watch your back._

Butch Deloria, _what a badass _, he thought. Ladies couldn’t get enough of the Butch-Man, well Susie Mack couldn’t. Her obsessive beady eyes followed him everywhere. It drove Wally crazy how infatuated his sister was with his gang’s leader.__

____

“That’s what you get when you gotta mug like this,” Butch smirked with a cigarette dangling between his lips.

Wally scoffed, “Just keep your hands off my little sis, okay?”

“Ain’t my fault she can’t get enough of me,” he gestured to himself. Leaning on the wall outside the diner he continued, “Plus she’s the one who can’t keep her hands to herself.”

Wally shoved his fists in his jacket pockets, “Whatever, asshole. Listen, I don’t like this deal the overseer cut us.”

Butch took a long drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke directly into Wally’s face. “Last I heard I was the leader of this gang, and the leader does what he wants. Besides Wally, we ain’t gonna have to worry about trouble from the security no more.”

“That’s if we deliver.”

“You’re a smart kid. You just gotta get your head out of your ass. There are no ifs.”

Wally looked exceptionally peeved. The anger he suppressed was evident, but he was a pup to Butch, maybe not in size, but Butch had toothpick and Wally had lost his blade months ago in fight with security. 

Wally glared at his feet before quickly storming down the hallway probably to take his anger out on some punching bag like nosebleed. 

Nosebleed, of course, was Butch’s favorite way of relieving anger and boy could she take a hit.

As much as Butch liked loitering around harassing the people of the vault by pulling toothpick out or making obnoxious comments, he wasn’t in the mood to be idle. He had an urge to make some real trouble. Not necessarily an urge more like an itch that wouldn’t be relieved unless caused trouble, and he was the best at causing trouble.

Turning into the diner he saw the two losers he’d thought Wally was after. Amata and little miss nosebleed. He assumed Wally was in search of someone who would put up more of a fight, and that made Butch all too glad at the opportunity now presented to him. 

Nosebleed had her hair tied up in a tight bun with not a single strand daring to escape. That especially made Butch’s skin crawl. He despised her attempts to be perfect. Her counterpart, Amata, wore her's in a similar fashion, but with a tad less perfection. Stray hairs sprang out in all directions where she failed to control the natural curl of her hair.

“Well, lookie who’s here,” Butch smirked as he stalked up to their booth, “My two favorite gals.”

Barely glancing up from her Nuka-Cola, nosebleed said, “Hello, Butch. Come to steal another sweet roll?”

Amata chuckled, but turned her gaze after she saw him glaring down at her.

“Didn’t taste so sweet the first time with your nasty ass spit all over it.” Butch recalled nosebleed’s tenth birthday. Remembering how much he loathed her then. How much he still loathed her.  
Letting his anger for her subside he shoved his way into the booth making sure to jab his elbow into one of her ribs. She flinched away not bothering to continue her snide remarks, all confidence giving way to frustration that showed heavily upon her face. 

_Good, the little weakling is getting pissed _, Butch thought.__

He had always enjoyed riling her up. Her face would get all scrunched up like she was biting her lips in order to keep them closed. So, he’d keep pushing like he always had until she couldn’t hold her tongue anymore. Then the real fun would begin.

Her attempts at a fight were so pathetic that it almost wasn't worth it after she’d take her first swing. It only took a bit of shoving and she’d basically trip over her own self in the process making his job all the easier. 

“Sooo...nerds, who’s gonna buy me a drink? I’ve really got a thirst,” he smiled dangerously at nosebleed.

“I’ll gladly buy you something if you leave us be, Butch,” Amata offered.

He had an evil look about him that seemed to be making Amata nervous. “Mmmm. I think I’d like to stick around and catch up with nosebleed. Maybe you should scram, princess.”

“You should just go or-”

“Or what?” Butch smacked toothpick on the table, “You’ll go running to daddy?”

Before Amata could pipe up, nosebleed responded, “Just go, Amata. He’s here to bother me. You wouldn’t be allowed out for a month if you had a run in with a tunnel snake.” 

Always being the noble patron, already Butch was grinding his teeth, “Listen to your girlfriend, princess.”

Amata hesitated only for a moment before standing to leave, a look of concern crossing her face, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Evie”

Nosebleed gave a reassuring smile, “Of course.”

After Amata's hasty departure, he turned on her. “Now, where were we? Oh yeah, my drink.” He snatched the Nuka-Cola from her hands, smirking as he took a swig.

“If that will be all today, I have important things to attend to,” she began to get up, but he didn’t move an inch to let her out. Instead, he kicked her feet out from underneath her, so she fell backwards into the booth.

“No that will not be all,” he mocked. “What does a loser like you have going on that’s so important anyway?”

A bit disheveled from the fall she glared harshly at him with fists clenched, “A decent job for one.”

“So, you think playing nurse is better than being a distinguished barber?”

“A distinguished barber?” she scoffed.

“Yeah, a distinguished fuckin’ barber,” he got dangerously close, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, at all.” She inched herself away, “Maybe if you actually did your job instead of causing trouble around the vault.”

He felt a flash of anger rush through his body, “Maybe we should see if you can do your job and patch yourself back up after I’m done with you.”

Problem with Nosebleed was she would never back down from a fight. Her determination and reckless mouth never ceased no matter how many times Butch, , _taught her a lesson _.__

____

____

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“And it won’t be the last,” he grabbed toothpick off the table. Pressing his thumb to the button on the handle, the blade shooting out in an instant. 

“What do you want, Butch? Me to beg for your mercy, bow down to you, kiss your ass?”

He twirled the blade meticulously between his fingers, “All of that would be nice.”

“Well, you can forget about it because I rather you stab me than have to spend another insufferable minute being antagonized like this.” She slammed her hands into his chest barely budging him.

“I’ll make you a deal, nosebleed,” he loved playing games, “You let me cut that ugly ass hair of yours and I'll let you go bruise free.”

Her hands went instinctively to her auburn locks, “No way, you'll butcher it.”

“What’s your point? Your hair already looks like shit.”

Flustered, she removed her hand and tapped her foot anxiously. “How about I make you a counteroffer?”

He almost spat his soda out, “Pfft, like you have any power over me. What's to stop me from holding you down and chopping it off right here?”

The tapping continued, “The satisfaction of knowing that you win and…”

“And?” He insisted. The fact that she'd finally admit defeat to her superior was a damn good reason for him, but if she was going to offer him more than who was he to refuse.

“And,” she continued, “I’ll teach you how to shoot.”

He gave her a doubtful look, “And how in fuckin’ world do you know how to shoot?”

“You remember my tenth birthday, right?”

“How could I forget? You basically poisoned me with your cooties.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re a child.”

“You better get to the point real fast, nosebleed, or you and your stupid counteroffer are done for,” he spat out, growing more irritated by the minute.

She sighed, “Fine.” Then lowering her voice so only he could hear, whispered, “My dad managed to pull a few parts from around the vault to make me a BB gun for my birthday.” 

“Bullshit. Only security has access to firearms.”

“I mean this isn't exactly a deadly firearm, just for mere recreational purposes for the most part.” 

“Why would I want to play with a toy that can't even harm people?”

“It teaches you how to aim so when you get your hands on a gun, and let's face it, you probably will, at least you'll know how to use it and not look like a complete novice.” 

Butch thought it over briefly because he didn’t like spending too much time in his head. He figured he’d lose his dangerous tendencies if he actually took the time he ought to thinking about his life choices. Hell, if he started doing that he’d probably turn into nosebleed. The thought made him shudder.

Without further hesitation he made up his mind allowing a mischievous smile to creep onto his face.

“You got yourself a deal, nosebleed.”


	2. Suspicious Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some PG touch touch stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still bored. Still writing.

It had been about a week since Butch took nosebleed up on her offer. They had agreed on meeting in the reactor room since nobody other than Stanley went down there for the occasional repair. If it hadn’t had been for rumors of those nasty ass radroaches this deep in the vault, Butch would have already claimed the area as part of his territory. It might even have made a good area for hooking up with-

_BANG_

__

Butch’s body tensed. Instinctively, his hands grasped the blade in his pocket, thoughts shifting from dames to irradiated insects in a matter of seconds. The image of being surrounded by radroaches didn’t sit well with him. They devoured their prey alive, or so Paul had read in some journal entry in the vault’s archives. Sometimes he could be a real nerd, but that didn’t change the fact that Butch’s hands started trembling with ideas of becoming a human chew toy.

“Butch!” He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his name. Leave it to nosebleed to alert the radroaches of their presence. He turned fast on his heels to glare at her approaching figure.

“The hell you think you’re doing shouting like that,” he hissed.

A flash of confusion crossed her features then she smirked, “Scared of a few bugs?”

He could’ve snapped her neck insulting his masculinity like that, “I’m not scared of anything, especially no fuckin’ little insects.”

Her smirking continued. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she patted the rifle slung over her shoulder.

“Like you could…” he began to growl before his attention shifted to the BB gun. It was smaller than he expected, befitting of its small owner though. 

Butch snatched it from her shoulder. “Pretty junky,” he inspected. 

“Then give it back,” she reached for it, but he held it above his head. 

“No way in hell,” he sneered.

“You don’t even know how to use it.”

“Uh, you just pull the trigger, right?” Of course, that’s what you do. Butch had seen it plenty of times watching old westerns on the vault’s recycled channels.

“Wrong,” nosebleed crossed her arms in defeat, giving up all hope of reaching the BB gun now. “Bullets don’t appear out of thin air, Butch.” 

He narrowed his eyes, “I know that.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty clueless to me.”

“You’re entering some dangerous territory.”

“Try something and the deals off,” she warned. “You don’t know the first thing about firing a weapon, and I’m going to teach you if your ego will allow it.”

It took all his strength to bite back his rising anger, but it didn’t stop him from harshly shoving the gun into her chest, nearly toppling her over in the process. “Fine.”

 

Nosebleed took charge and led them deeper into the vault. When they finally reached the reactor room, she fiddled with her pip boy. The red restricted light flickered green and the door slid open. Butch raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Nosebleed barely glanced at him, “All the keycodes in the vault follow similar patterns, so it isn’t hard to hack past the doors if you memorize them.”

“And here I thought you couldn’t get any nerdier,” he retorted, but he had to admit he was slightly impressed.

She let the comment roll off her shoulders, probably thinking it best not to insight anymore of a rise out of him than necessary. 

_At least she’s learning her place._

Butch pushed passed nosebleed to get a look inside the reactor room. This reactor was one of the main sources to the vault’s electric grid, and it was sitting right in front of him just begging to be tampered with.

“Don’t think about it,” nosebleed warned. “We are here so I can uphold my end of the bargain, nothing more.”

The light in Butch’s eyes flickered, “Jeez, you always this much of a stick in the mud?”

She gave him a level stare, “Yes.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Give me the gun.”

He was surprised when she actually tossed it at him, “Be careful, nosebleed! You could’ve blown my hands off or somethin’!”

“I thought you lived for danger, Butch,” she smirked. “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded, plus I’ve never heard of anyone losing a limb over BBs. Maybe an eye, though,” she added causing him to shift uncomfortably. 

Nosebleed glanced around the room until her gaze landed on the air vent just above their heads. “Butch, don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to use you.”

He smirked, “Sorry, sweetheart, but nerdy and weak aren’t really my type.”

“No, just dumb and ditsy,” she retorted.

Butch shrugged, that pretty much summed up Susie. 

Nosebleed simply rolled her eyes and pointed at the ceiling, “I just need you to give me a lift, so I can open that vent.”

“Jeez, I don’t want to touch you,” Butch complained.

“Just lift me, you crybaby.”

He groaned, “There better be a pack of smokes up there.”

“Don’t worry, it’s something much better,” she cast him a mischievous glance. It was unnerving even for him.

He sighed and leaned the BB gun against the wall, then grabbed nosebleed by the hips, “You better be as light as you look.”

She was. He tossed her up on his shoulders as if she was a child. She wrapped her legs around his neck to balance herself, practically cutting off his oxygen supply in the process. 

“Cut...it...out,” he wheezed, prying her legs loose enough to get a gulp of air.

She looked down at him, surprisingly apologetic, “Sorry, almost got it.”

She had finished removing the vent lid and was now shoving her hand down the air duct. Her legs relaxed enough so Butch could breathe freely, his thoughts quickly shifting to the warmth radiating from her thighs onto the back of his neck. The feeling was slightly hypnotic, and without realizing, he leaned his neck further against them, the warmth beginning to spread to other parts of his body.

_What the hell is wrong with me!_

This was nosebleed on his shoulders, and was disgusting to even entertain the thought. He blamed it on Susie. She had broken up with him to pursue Freddie again, and he had been left dry for weeks. 

He was a guy, it was natural, but even so it wasn’t right. He shook his head violently to clear his mind. Unfortunately, at the same moment nosebleed pulled out a box with such force it threw him completely off balance. The two came crashing to the ground, nosebleed landing on his chest and the cardboard box spilling its contents everywhere.

“You ass! What was that about,” she glared, digging her nails into chest.

He couldn’t push down the slight thrill that echoed through his body from the pain. 

_This is fucked up _. He needed to get her off him and fast.__

____

____

“Get off before I catch your cooties,” he shoved her with as much force as he could without breaking her, then stood up and strolled to the other side of the room to lean against the wall. He had to put as much distance as possible between them before he lost his cool again. 

Nosebleed brushed the dirt from her vault suit and began gathering the items scattered on the floor, placing them gingerly back into the box. Butch inspected the objects that were so clearly important to their adventure down here. 

It was a box of bobbleheads.

It took every ounce of his self-control, which wasn’t very much to begin with, to stop from wringing her neck.

“Are you serious,” he growled in her direction.

She merely tilted her head towards him, “We need targets.”

 

By the time they began practicing it was well past noon or, so his pip boy alerted him. Nosebleed had taken her sweet time setting up the “targets” at different intervals of distance. She went over the basics of how to load it, how to hold it, and how to aim it, all of which lulling Butch into a thoughtless daze. It wasn’t until she smacked his arm that he was brought back to reality, and damn did it look pissed.

“You’re not even paying attention!”

“You really need to work on that swing of yours.” 

She still couldn’t hit to save her life. He was almost inclined to give her a few pointers before he realized that she’d most likely use it against him. 

“If you can manage to focus for two seconds we can start firing.”

Butch perked up at her words, “About damn time!”

Nosebleed handed him the rifle, “All yours.”

His face lit up, “Really?” Then he suddenly remembered he didn’t actually know how to fire the thing, “Wait-”

She held up a finger to silence him and surprisingly he obeyed. Which was odd considering Butch never listened to anyone but himself.

“Butch, since you’ve been such a good student, I’ll let you fire first.” There was mischief in her eyes, but he couldn’t just give her the satisfaction of admitting he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

_Fuck it._

Grasping the rifle between his hands, he brought it up to his shoulder like he briefly recalled her doing and squeezed the trigger, or so he thought, but the trigger remained stationary. He exhaled in frustration and tried putting more force into his index finger. Nothing happened except for nosebleed’s incessant snickering.

“Shut up,’ he snapped at her. “Your fucking gun is broken.”

“The only thing broken here is your pride,” she continued laughing.

Before he could knock the smile from her face, she wrapped her hand around his arm. He flinched under her touch.

“The fuck are you-”

“Calm down. The only way to teach someone as...stubborn as you is through action, so I’m going to do just that.”

She had a point. If there is one thing Butch understood it was action. He never grasped the concept of school and learning. If he didn’t pick it up through fighting or causing trouble, he quickly lost interest. 

“Okay,” he decided. “Just don’t get all handsy with me.” The last thing he needed was another weird moment of whatever the hell her closeness did to him earlier. 

She barely gave him a glance before stepping behind him and placing her fingers between his shoulder blades. “First you need to adjust your posture and stance.” She kicked out his feet, so they aligned with his shoulders. He couldn’t believe he was letting her take command of his body like this, although he had to admit he felt more solid and balanced. 

Next, she pointed to the crevice between his shoulder and collarbone, “Hold it here,” she directed and without warning pressed her body to Butch’s back and peered out over his shoulder. He stiffened instantly. This was exactly what he didn’t want. She reached around his body and placed her hands over his then drew the length of the weapon parallel to his shoulder. She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear over the screaming of his thoughts alerting him of danger. Usually he ignored those thoughts, but today he didn’t trust his body to make any decisions for him. 

“Butch!”

As if remembering reality was still a thing, he pulled himself out of his head long enough to answer.

“What?”

She sighed, “Place your cheek against the buttstock.”

He almost choked on his spit, “The what stock?” 

He didn’t need eyes on the back of his head to know she was rolling her eyes, “It’s what this part is called.” She pointed at the end of the rifle.

He couldn’t help but mock her with a bad impression of her voice, “Jeez, nosebleed, grow up.”

“Just do it,” she said curtly, but he could feel her smile against his shoulder. Why did that make him smile back?

He decided not to think on it further, he really didn’t want to know. Instead, he followed her orders and rested his cheek where she guided him. “Now look down the sights and aim at a target.”

He chose the bobblehead that reminded him most of Wally with it’s dumb security baton threatening to smack Butch across the back of head one day.

“Good, now flick the safety switch to fire,” she traced his thumb over it and he obeyed. Her breath was warm against his ear as she whispered, “Now pull the trigger.”

He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a boom or something exciting, but all he heard was a whizzing sound of air and a metallic sounding _dink _as the BB ricocheted off the metal wall.__

____

____

He remembered to switch the safety back on before dropping his arms in silent defeat, “I don’t know which sucks more. The lame-ass sounds this thing makes or that I missed.”

Nosebleed snatched the weapon from his hands and swiftly brought it to her shoulder. She fired a quick round that sung through the air and whipped the head clear off one of the bobbleheads. 

“Beginners luck,” he sneered.

“More like years of experience, but don’t worry you’ll get the hang of it. This weapon is rather light, so every move you make affects the steadiness of your aim.”

“I was perfectly still,” he argued. How couldn’t he be? With her body wrapped around him like that he was about as stiff as a board, afraid any movement would be the wrong kind.

“Was your breathing?” When he stared at her blankly, she continued, “The steadiness of your breathing has a major impact on your aim. Holding it in can cause tension and unsteadiness while inhaling can draw the weapon back and misguide it’s aim. I find it best to fire when your body relaxes on the exhale. It’s only a few seconds, but with a trained eye and practice you’ll hit the target.”

Sure, it made sense, but Butch wasn’t all too keen on the practicing part. Practice required patience, and Butch was already low on the latter. 

He ran a frustrated hand through his stiff hair, “So I have to spend more time down here with you.”

“You make it sound like the end of the world. I already promised I’d protect you from the radroaches should they make an appearance.”

_Great, now she’s teasing me._

“I don’t need protection from a weakling like you,” he shoved a finger at her.

“I’m not weak!” she protested, drawing dangerously closer. This was usually the part where Butch shoved her to the ground, she’d get back up, he’d push her back down, maybe even pull out toothpick, and watch her squirm as he threatened to give her a few cuts and bruises. It would be so easy to break their deal and show her just how weak she really was. 

What was stopping him?

He clenched his fists in irritation, knuckles turning white against his tanned skin. “Hit me then.”

Her eyes widened, “What?”

“Hit me,” he repeated not knowing what possessed him.

“I’m not going to…” 

“C’mon, nosebleed, I know you want to. I won’t even hit back. Show me how tough you are. Hit me in the fucking face!” 

Butch almost thought she was going to turn tail and run right before she pulled back a fist and shouted, “My name isn’t nosebleed! It’s Evelyn, you ass!”

 

The world was spinning, and was that something wet coming out of his nose?

Then the pain set it.

_Fuck that hurt!_

“Fuck!” he repeated out loud taking his nose in his hand as he attempted to stop the bleeding. He leaned against a wall to steady himself. Did she really just hit him? 

He peered across the room to find her turned over nursing a hand and cursing under her breath. At least he wasn’t the only one suffering.

“Is it broke?”

She snapped her head up at the sound of his voice. “I don’t think so…what about your nose?” He thought he heard a touch of concern in her voice, but he quickly brushed it aside.

“Probably,” he shrugged. Butch had his fair share of bruises when the gang scuffled. If he got hit, he’d just get back up, so a broken nose wasn’t exactly news to him.

“I didn’t mean to break it.”.

“It’s no big deal, noseblee-Evelyn,” he quickly corrected when her brows drew together in anger. Her name tasted odd on his tongue, like the first time he cursed as a child. It was strange yet thrilling, and just like cursing he could get used to using it daily.

“At least let me fix it back at the clinic.”

“And let you ruin this mug,” he winked playfully as blood dripped onto his jacket collar. 

She scoffed, “Have it your way.”

“I always do,” he smirked.

They regarded each other for a silent moment before Evelyn finally spoke up, “So, you’ll continue our lessons?”

“Can’t let you be better than me at shooting, can I?” 

He thought he saw a ghost of a smile form on her lips, “Same time next week?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said moving towards the exit. “Just take care of that hand of yours, will ya?”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh, and Evelyn?”

“Yes?”

“Nice swing.”

He didn’t have to look back to know how her cheeks flushed red. She managed a mumbled thank you as he turned the corner to leave for another day of causing trouble in the vault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't tell yet I like Elvis.


	3. Tomorrow Never Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more PG touch touch stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm drunk. Happy New Years!

Butch was beginning to get the hang of this whole aiming thing. Evelyn stood by with a pleased grin stretched across her face as he managed to shoot a bobblehead clear off its pedestal.

They had been at this for weeks now, but really, they had only practiced a handful of times. Between Butch and the gang handling the overseer’s dirty work, and Evelyn’s long shifts at the clinic, they had little time set aside for meeting. It was a miracle that Butch even hit the target in the first place. Although, he wasn’t about to tell Evelyn that.

“You’ve really caught on quick, Butch.”

He offered her a smug grin, “I’m a natural at a lot of things.” 

He waited for an eye roll that never came. Instead, she laughed, “Your confidence is astounding.”

“You think? I can show you somethin’ just as _astounding _.”__

____

____

That finally earned him the eye roll he was so desperately waiting for, and just to cause further discomfort he raised a suggestive brow . 

It worked. 

She quickly withdrew her gaze from him with flushed cheeks, choosing to stare at the little figures in the distance instead, “If you’re such a natural then you’ll have no problem doing it again.”

He scoffed, “Easy peasy.”

She gestured for him to fire, and he found his confidence fading as soon as he brought the bb gun to his shoulder. He grimaced as the familiar sounding _dink _of a bb bouncing off the metal wall rung in the air.__

____

____

“Easy peasy,” Evelyn raised an eyebrow in question.

“Shut it.”

 

By the end of the day Butch was hitting more targets than wall. More than making up for his embarrassing display earlier.

“Take that,” Butch smirked as he downed another bobblehead.

“He’ll be feeling that for days,” Evelyn chided, gathering Butch's victims and placing them neatly back in the box. 

Butch slung the rifle over his shoulder and slipped a cigarette between his lips. 

“Need a lift?” He bent down so she could quickly climb on his shoulders, distracting himself from the press of her thighs by chewing on the end of the unlit cigarette. 

She secured the vent lid after placing the box back in the air duct and signaled him to let her down. He gently lowered her, so she wouldn’t yell at him for dropping her like last time. 

She ran a hand down her vault suit to smooth the wrinkles and glanced back at Butch, “See you next week?” 

“Yeah,” he unslung the bb gun and handed it to her.

As she reached out to take it, their hands lightly brushed against one another. To Butch's surprise, she stiffened before shaking her head, “Sorry.”

He stared at where their hands met and bit his lip in frustration. He had been trying his hardest to keep his distance these past few weeks. There hadn't been any close calls since that first day, and he preferred to keep it that way. There was no way he’d entertain those thoughts. They were just too dangerous even for him.

“Cooties,” he quickly reminded her, mostly himself, before retracting his hand safely to his side.

Something like relief passed over her face and she grinned, “Right, cooties.”

They left it at that and went their separate ways to live their separate lives. 

 

Butch met up with Paul at the diner and before long the rest of the gang straggled in. Freddie sat opposite of Butch listening to every obscene word that found its way out of his mouth with childlike curiosity in his eyes. He had been put on a trial run after his incessant begging to join the gang. Butch didn’t necessarily despise Freddie, considering the twerp idolized him for some reason, but he didn’t appreciate the fact how Susie ditched him every few weeks to pursue this blockhead.

“Where you’ve been, Butch?” Paul peered over his Nuka-Cola, slinging himself over a backwards chair.

“You know me, takin care of some business.”

“You and Susie back together?”

“No,” Wally interrupted, “Her and Christine have been tailing Freddie all week.”

Freddie ducked his head, probably hoping Butch would turn his anger somewhere else. Wally was obviously trying to start something. They had all been on edge since the overseer brokered a deal with them.

There were times when it was a simple task of just threatening the residents into submission, and other times it involved much more interrogation. A beating or two wasn’t bad. Anyone can bounce back from a few punches but bouncing back from broken bones wasn’t as easy.

A shiver ran down Butch’s spine as he remembered the crunching sound and scream that followed when the overseer ordered them to leave a "very lasting impression." Butch could be cruel, but never that cruel, and he had a feeling the idea of participating in that again was beginning to nag at the other members.

“Lay off, Wally,” Butch defended, and for the first time, he found himself trying to defuse the situation. Normally he wouldn’t mind a good fight to satisfy his rising anger, but today he found himself too tired to listen to the garbage spewing from Wally’s mouth.

“Or what?”

Butch shrugged, “You really wanna fight in front of the gals.” He pointed over to Susie and Christine who were on the opposite side of the diner, giggling every time they made eye contact with Freddie, who was turning three different shades of red. Butch knew Wally would never fight in front of his sister because he'd been around long enough to recognize Susie's tattletale tendencies. Their father, Allen Mack, was a hard ass with an even harder swing. Every now and then, Wally scored a few fresh bruises after a run in with security, proving just how unforgiving his father really was. 

“Don’t think your sister would be too impressed if you got your ass beat.”

“Like you could,” Wally mumbled, but left it at that. Butch didn’t even bother fighting for the last word. He’d already won the situation, so he could let Wally have his small victory.

 

By the time Butch reached his apartment it was well past curfew. He tried his best to avoid home as much as possible, but there was only so long the security would harass him before they took him in. It wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t confiscate his blade every time. It was always a bitch to get back.

Butch was hoping that maybe his mother had already drunk herself into a stupor being that it was much easier to deal with her if she was passed out. At least all he’d have to do was carry her to bed.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side tonight. 

“Where the fuck you’ve been?” his mom slurred out.

“Out.”

“Out? That’s all you can say for yourself,” she already had her hands on him, pulling on his jacket like he was a dog on a leash.

He shook her off and headed towards his room, “Yes.”

“Don’t you walk away from me.”

Why did he always stop?

She staggered towards him, the stench of alcohol following. He couldn’t look at her. It was always too much. When was the last time he saw her sober? He couldn’t remember.

“Butchie, you aren’t in trouble again?” 

He refused to meet her gaze, not while she was like this, “Of course not, mum.”

“Good,” she leaned forward to grasp him, losing her footing in the process. He caught her in his arms before she collapsed to the ground in a drunken heap.

He just wanted this night to be over.

“Maybe you should put the bottle down for a bit. Get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped and backed away.

“So fine you can’t even stand.”

“Don’t get smart with me. You’re just like your father!”

There it was. The statement that always turned the knife in Butch’s heart. The statement that turned his mother into a sobbing mess.

It was worse when she got so drunk, she confused him for his father. It always ended with broken bottles and tears.

“Butchie-,” she started, but he was tired, so tired.

“Forget it. Just like you will tomorrow, and the next day,” he hissed, venom stinging his open wounds. “Do me a favor and drink yourself to death already!”

He didn’t mean it of course, and he knew she’d forget anyway. She was well past the point of remembering. He just wanted this to be done with, and this was the quickest way. 

_The only way _, he told himself.__

____

____

He didn’t even count to ten before he found a bottle hurtling towards his head. He dodged one, two, three, the fourth one just managing to nick his shoulder. He ground his teeth from the small impact, glass shards shattering behind him.

For a split second he lowered his guard in hopes she was starting to get tired, which was consequently, just long enough for her to throw one last bottle. This one was still heavy with liquor. 

There was no time to dodge it, so he threw up an arm in defense. Liquor sprayed from the bottle as it exploded against him. Fragments of glass tore through his jacket and lodged themselves in his skin. There was a blinding moment of pain before his arm fell numb. 

“This is your fault,” his mother screeched at him. 

One push, one shove, that’s all it would take to silence her, but he couldn’t. He’d never forgive himself. 

There was a time when she once loved him, held him close to her heart and called him her “little Butchie.” She used to read him bedtime stories and kiss his forehead goodnight. All the things a mother should be, she had been, and because of that he’d never harm her. Even as rage shook him down to his very core, he’d choose to bury it deep. Letting it fester and grow until it became too much, bursting in a great flood that destroyed everything in its path.

He was afraid of himself and what he could do. So, before his walls crumbled around him, he buried his hate, and dashed out of the apartment.

 

The corridor was bathed in a red glow as Butch stalked down the hall. He let his body guide him to his next destination. He didn’t want to think. He never wanted to think again.

His feet stopped just outside the clinic doors. The only accessible door at night, used explicitly for emergencies. Everything else could wait until morning apparently.

Butch figured his body was trying to tell him something when he glanced down to find a pool of blood forming around his feet. Crimson droplets rolled down his hand and dripped steadily to the floor. 

The door slid open to reveal bright luminescent lights. It was a stark contrast to the dark hallways and did little to improve his growing headache. Cautiously he entered, hoping that no one was there, so he could steal a few stimpaks and be on his way.

“Butch?”

_Fuck, not now._

He turned to face a wide-eyed Evelyn. She wore a white lab coat around her vault suit, and a pair of glasses sat snugly against her nose. He would’ve called her a nerd if he didn’t collapse from pain first. The shock must've worn off.

She rushed to his aid and slung his good arm over her shoulder. The sweet scent of lavender drifted from her skin, robbing Butch of all his senses from it's potent aroma. It wasn't until she wrapped a hand tightly around his waist that he remembered she was still there.

“I can’t lift you on my own, Butch. A little help would be appreciated.”

He nodded and managed to will his lead legs to move. She guided him to a hospital bed where he sat on the edge listening to her speak gently. Her voice was smooth and light. Why did he hate it again?

“Butch I need to cut off your jacket.”

He remembered now.

“No way in hell,” he protested.

“I can’t see how deep the wounds are, and I can’t just pull it off without ripping the skin.” He cringed at the thought of glass tearing through even more flesh.

“Fine,” he growled deeply, and dug his good hand into the mattress. 

She effortlessly cut through the leather jacket, and he shrugged the rest off with a grimace. Next his vault jumpsuit, and when she spotted the growing bruise around his shoulder, she did away with his shirt too. 

“If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask?”

She scoffed at him, but he saw the way her eyes wondered briefly over his bare shoulders in curiosity before she hid behind her professional shroud again.

She snapped on a pair of gloves and reached for a needle.

“Whaddya gonna do with that?”

She arched a brow, “Administer some local anesthesia.”

“Some what?”

“It numbs the surrounding area, so I can pull out the shards. They aren’t buried too deep, but you’ll still need stitches.”

“This is a bother,” he sighed.

“So is this shift.”

 

It didn’t take long for her to pull out the shards and sew the wounds shut. Her practiced hands meticulously traced over his skin as they searched for any remaining pieces. He had to bite his bottom lip in hopes of distracting the rising pressure of something else. 

_Stop thinking _, he reminded himself.__

____

____

“The stitches will probably itch in a few days but try not to touch them too much. We should also get an x-ray of that arm in case anything is broken.”

“Nothin’s broken," he grumbled. "Why didn’t you just use a stimpak instead?”

“Overseer’s orders. We are supposed to use them only if it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Course, he did,” Butch mumbled.

Evelyn shrugged, “It would be easier than stitches, but I don’t mind the extra work.”

She wrapped his arm in gauze and went on to examining his shoulder, “What exactly happened, Butch?"

“Nothin'.” He didn’t want to talk about it, and he especially didn’t want to talk to her of all people. She was the one he took all his hate out on for years. How could he even begin to explain something like that to someone like her?

“Okay,” she gripped his bare shoulder in her hands, obviously content that everything was were it should be. “I won’t pry. I just figured you’d might want to talk about it.”

“I don’t, so please stop molesting my shoulder.”

She laughed, “Cooties?”

“Cooties,” he answered back, a smile threatened to form.

She removed her hands and gathered his discarded clothes. “I’ll get you spare jumpsuit.”

When she left, he collapsed on the bed in exhaustion. A painful thrumming sensation radiated through his temples. He needed to do something, anything to get rid of this hate. He was so tired of it all.

Evelyn entered the room a moment later carrying a freshly pressed vault suit and shirt. “They’re some spares of my dad’s, but he won’t mind.”

She had removed her glasses, and he felt as if he was looking at her for the first time. Of course, he had seen her thousands of times. They grew up together for fucks sake, but he never actually looked at her. Never studied the way her small nose pointed upwards ever so slightly at the end. The way her full lips teased a smile or the way her eyes emitted a comforting warmth. He could kick himself for never noticing. 

She was beautiful.

“Evelyn…” he croaked out.

“Yes?” she glanced at him, her soft features soothing.

“I just-,” he couldn’t find the right words. They all seemed wrong. “Never mind, forget it.”

She simply shrugged, “You know you can call me Evie if you want?”

“Evie?” He remembered Amata using that nickname with her growing up. He always figured it was a nickname given by a friend and used by a friend. Butch didn’t deserve to call her that. He was Butch Deloria, _the biggest asshole in the vault _. He was her tormentor and her bully. Under no circumstances should he be allowed to call her friend. To call her Evie.__

____

____

“It’s no big deal,” she must have picked up on the uncertainty in his voice. “It’s just that I prefer it. Evelyn is so formal, and frankly I hate the nickname Lyn.”

“Evie,” he repeated. Her gaze dropped down to meet his. It was about then he realized how much of a lunatic he looked like, sprawled out on a hospital bed, half naked, and muttering her name as if it was the only word he knew.

He jolted forward when a small hand came to rest upon his bare chest. It was a delicate thing, unscarred and soft. How easy it would be to take it in his own, to claim it for himself. 

“Butch,” his name never sounded so foreign to him. It was moments like these he desired to be someone else. Someone who was worthy to be touched like this. “I just want you to know that I… that whatever happened,” her eyes drifted to the floor in embarrassment. “I’m here for you.”

He reached out his uninjured hand to tenderly stroke her cheek. What an odd gesture for him, he wasn’t even sure if he was in control of himself anymore. Her eyes closed as he traced the lines of her face. Maybe he should finally give in, let his pain and hate consume him. He was selfish after all. It would be easy to take her in his arms. To feed his growing hunger and devour every inch of her until he was completely satisfied. Would she let him?

_No._

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong, and maybe that’s why he craved it terribly. He never did the right thing, so why start now?

_Because she deserves more._

He hurriedly dropped his hand as if he might burn it against the warmth of her skin. Her eyes fluttered open from the absence of his touch.

Staring into those tender eyes, he decided maybe he could be a little selfish, if only to satisfy his own curiosity. So, without warning, he extended his reach to her hair.

“What-”

He pulled the headband that secured her hair tightly against her scalp. Auburn locks spilled around her shoulders and down her back in waves. He wondered what it’d be like to run a hand through them.

“So, you do have hair.”

“And?” her cheeks flushed red in frustration.

“I dig it,” his lips twitched upward in what might have been a smile, “I really dig it.”

_You’re beautiful _, he wanted to tell her. Wanted her to know.__

____

____

“Liar,” she twirled a finger through a strand, “You wanted to cut it off a month ago.”

“I was an ass a month ago, remember?” he pointed to his nose, and she raised a disapproving brow until he corrected himself. “Still am.”

She nodded, and they shared a laugh. The silence that followed was a comfortable one, and before he could ruin it by saying something stupid, she spoke for him. 

“You should get some sleep. It’s been a long night.” She offered him a shy smile before standing to leave, “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”

“Umm, Evie?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for everything.”

She chuckled, “Anytime.”

And with that she was gone. 

Butch laid back on the hospital bed with a huff. He’d save the pain of today for tomorrow, and this time he refused to use Evie as an outlet. He’d find some other way, even if he became his own target. 

With that decided, Butch fell into a deep dreamless sleep, finally succumbing to the exhaustion of his life.


	4. Always on My Mind

“Ugh,” he sighed.

“Stop complaining.”

“Or what?”

“You can pull these stitches out yourself.”

It was Butch’s fourth visit to the clinic this week. Evie had insisted on him returning every other day for a checkup, mostly because she didn’t trust him to take care of himself and made it very clear that if he didn’t return, she’d personally seek him out. The last thing he needed was her showing up to his apartment to find his mother in another drunken coma so, he reluctantly agreed to her terms. It was sort of becoming a trend, she’d come up with some sort of inescapable deal, and he’d just blindly accept. 

“You know, Evie?” He peered down at her hunched over figure as she removed the last remaining stitches. “These are gonna be some badass scars.”

She snorted, “I wonder what story you’ll make up this time.”

“Maybe I had a run in with some radroaches with switchblades.”

She stifled a laugh, “Now if only you weren’t so afraid of them.”

He flicked her head with his good hand, and this time she didn’t hold back her snickering.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want when you ain’t fuckin’ with my skin.”

“Don’t worry, I’m quite good at my job.” She finished up her work and traced a deft finger over the raised marks, forcing him to flex a hand to stay the thrilling sensation threatening to erupt within in.

The biggest problem that came from these visits was the constant touching. He knew it couldn’t be helped, but did she really need to caress his arm in a way that left him aching for something else. Something more. 

He wondered if those hands were just as practiced and sure of themselves in other ways? Or would they be timid and nervous as they explored something new? 

None of that matter. This was torture enough, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Before I forget, Butch. I have something for you.”

“Hm?”

“Just wait.” She disappeared into the other room and returned with a bundle of black leather in tow. She tossed the heap in his lap, and he unfolded it to reveal his Tunnel Snakes jacket with the missing sleeve repaired. It wasn’t a perfect stitch, considering she worked on flesh and not fabric, but he could fix it later. He was just thrilled to finally see it back in his possession. 

This week couldn’t have been worse without it. He may as well have been streaking through the vault halls stark naked with how exposed he felt. There was nothing more shameful than a Tunnel Snake without his armor. 

He sighed in relief as he slipped his arms through the cool leather.

“I’ve missed ya, baby,” he mumbled into the collar. It smelled of pomade and cigarettes just as he left it, although, he detected the faintest trace of lavender. 

“Happy to reunite the two of you,” she grinned, apparently pleased with herself.

He smirked, “Thanks for fixing the jacket ya ruined.”

She punched his shoulder playfully, “I should have burned it, instead.”

He caught her wrists in his hands to save him from another jab and drew her close. Her pulse fluttered underneath his thumb. He wondered briefly if it matched his own.

“I really mean it. Thanks, Evie.”

Her eyes found his, and their warmth spread through his body, easing his tension. 

“Anytime.” He watched as a blush then crept along her cheeks, “I did kind of ruin it, didn’t I.”

“Destroyed it,” he joked, watching intently as her lips returned to their natural smile. “But what’s a few scars?” 

 

Wally and Paul were sharing a smoke when Butch rounded the corner to their usual meeting spot. It had been a quiet few weeks since they were last called on by the overseer. 

“Wonder who the target is this time,” Wally huffed.

Paul stiffened, he had too big of a heart for this line of work. 

“Who cares,” Butch sighed. “It’s a job. Toss me a cig, why don’t ya?”

Paul pulled a spare from his pocket and handed it to Butch. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he needed something to calm his nerves. He’d play this cool just like all the other times for the sake of the gang. A leader who breaks under pressure is weak, and Butch DeLoria didn’t show weakness. He was a Tunnel Snake through and through. 

 

The gang never met directly with the overseer, because that would have proved too scandalous, so they settled their score with security. Wally’s older brother, Stevie, usually rendezvoused with them at a set location with a name. It was an easy exchange. A little contraband here and there for the silence of a select few individuals. 

Stevie and Wally exchanged a curt greeting. Awkward as usual.

“Who’s the lucky winner,” Butch broke the silence.

Stevie snorted, “Gonna love this one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s your little girlfriend’s daddy.” Butch raised a quizzical brow; not entirely sure what Stevie was getting at, which only made Stevie grin like the fucked-up psychopath he was, “Good ole’ doc James.”

 

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

_I can't do this _. He promised never to hurt Evie again, and what was he doing now?__

____

____

__Not that Butch ever cared for James. He actually despised him for being everything he couldn’t have.__

_A decent fuckin’ father _.__

____

____

Maybe if the overseer had asked a month ago, he could’ve done it, but now with this _thing _he started with Evie, it was just too complicated.__

_Evie, I’m so sorry. ___

____

____

He wanted to stop, wanted to say no but how could he? Nobody refused the overseer. It just didn’t happen. 

“Slow down, Butch,” Paul was wheezing from keeping up with Butch’s swift pace. Wally, on the other hand, remained perfectly silent, completely content. Now that Butch thought about it, Wally hadn’t said a word since their exchange with Stevie.

“Just stop for a moment, will ya?” 

Butch turned on his heel to glare at Paul’s hunched over figure, “Need a inhaler?”

“Need you to stop and think for a moment, Butch.”

“What’s there to think about?”

“The fact that we’re about to assault Evie’s father.”

Something inside of Butch snapped, “Don’t call her that!” 

Both, Paul and Wally, gawked at Butch as if he sprouted two heads.

“I mean-,” he was stumbling over his words, “I just mean her name’s nosebleed.”

Paul relaxed slightly, but Wally only narrowed his eyes, “What’s it matter what we call her, and why the fuck was Stevie calling her your girlfriend?”

Wally’s last question had Butch forming a few of his own. Was he being spied on by security, or was it just a coincidence that Stevie managed to see Butch and Evie together? Maybe he saw him head into the clinic this week, but Butch was certain he wasn’t being tailed. 

“Well, Butch? Somethin’ you’re not telling us?”

“Shut the fuck up, Wally,” Butch hissed.

“Touch a nerve, did I?”

It only took a single beat before Butch had his fists buried deep in Wally’s collar, pinning him against the wall, “What part of shut the fuck up don’t ya understand?”

“The part where you’re boning the doc’s daughter.” He sneered, “That’s a little low even for your standards.”

Paul was shouting something behind Butch, but all he heard was the pounding of his heartbeat. 

His first swing connected with Wally’s face and the second dug deep into his rib cage. 

_Now if only that was enough to bring Wally down._

It was a matter of seconds before Wally lunged back at Butch. They crashed to the ground in a flailing heap of fists and curses. A fist managed to land across Butch’s jaw, snapping his head back, but just as its companion came hurtling down on his left side, his senses returned, and he swiftly rolled right. There was a familiar sounding crunch as Wally’s fist collided with the metal floor.

If Butch thought that a broken hand would stop him, he was dumber than Wally looked. 

Wally lashed out with his good hand, swinging madly. He needed to break his defense.

Butch shouldered his way through Wally’s battering fists, keeping his head down and vital spots protected until he was just close enough to wrestle him back to the floor. Butch pinned him there under his weight, and drove his fists down hard upon his face, one after the other, until they were stained red, and Paul was hauling him off Wally. 

“What the hell, Butch?” Paul shook his shoulders, trying to snap him back to reality.

“I-,” Butch stared at Wally’s unconscious form, realizing what kind of mistake he just made. He had accomplished in destroying his entire reputation, simply because he couldn’t keep his cool. He needed to make up for this. He needed to prove himself again. So, standing up he planted a firm hand on Paul’s shoulder, “You take care of him. I’ll deal with the doc.”

Paul nodded slightly, a look of relief crossing his face, and Butch took off sprinting down the hall. It was about time he fixed this mess he created.

 

Butch wished he had a cigarette the nearer he drew to Evie and her father’s shared apartment. His nerves were aflame, still burning from his fight with Wally accompanied by his growing anticipation. Evie was most likely still on shift, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of guilt in his gut.

Their apartment was down the hallway, only a little way from his own, but it felt like an entirely different world. One he didn’t belong in. 

Here, it was quiet and peaceful, the absolute opposite of the life he lived only a stretch away. He wondered if they ever heard his mom yelling from down here? He never really gave it much thought until now, but he was certain most of the rooms in the vault were sound proof, or so he hoped.

Approaching the door to Evie’s apartment, Butch contemplated knocking. Normally, the thought of breaking and entering was not a concern on his part, but this was James. The only fully-fledged doctor the vault had, and that had to count for something. Without him, the vault’s residents wouldn’t last a month. Which led Butch to question why exactly did the overseer want to threaten him? What exactly was Evie’s dad involved in?

“Hello, Butch is it?” The sound of his name startled him. He spun around to face a very confused James, instantly feeling a pang of regret when he looked into his eyes. They were the same as Evie’s, holding the same warmth and tenderness. 

_Shit._

“Is everything all right, son? You look like you’ve been through the wringer.”

Butch completely forgot what he must look like. A bruise was beginning to swell along his jaw and not to mention how disheveled his hair must appear. There was only so much protection pomade could provide during a fight.

“Would you like to come in for a spell?”

Butch nodded and followed James into the small apartment. It was strange to see a place so clear of clutter and empty bottles. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself in a home so clean. 

“Take a seat, I’ll get you some ice for that bruise of yours.”

Butch took a seat in the armchair furthest away from the rest of the room. He didn’t want to contaminate anything. 

James returned a moment later carrying an icepack. “Here,” he gestured for Butch to take it, and with reluctance he secured it between his hand and jaw. The cold sensation sent a shiver down his spine. 

“So, what can I do you for, Butch?” 

“Well… um, actually-”

_Why is this so hard._

“Your daughter,” was all Butch could mumble out.

James’s eyes widened in concern as he looked Butch over, “What about my daughter?” 

_Fuck._

Butch caught his mistake immediately and pointed to his jaw to clear the air, “My bad, doc. This had nothin’ to do with Evie… well, not directly,” he corrected.

“So, what exactly is going on?”

“That’s what I came here to ask you.”

James furrowed his brows in confusion, “I’m not quite sure I understand your meaning.”

The words came spilling out of Butch's mouth all at once, “Why does the overseer want you beat into obedience?”

James stared into space for a moment before rubbing his temples, “So, he’s still questioning my loyalty. I assume he sent you boys after me?”

Butch nodded his response.

“Well, in that case, where are my other attackers?”

Butch flexed a bruised fist, “I told them I’d handle it.”

James arched a brow in surprise, “And why is that?”

“Your daughter,” Butch stuttered, dropping his gaze to the floor. He feared the judgement behind those eyes.

“I see…” 

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and just as Butch thought he’d be stuck staring at his shoes for the rest of his miserable life, a hand came to rest upon his shoulder. 

Butch lifted his head to find James smiling tenderly, “I’m grateful to you, Butch. I know you and Evelyn had your differences in the past, and this change of heart, well… its unexpected to say the least.” He paused, carefully weighing his next words, “Maybe I’m not the right person to hear this from, but I wish to say it anyhow. I’m proud of you for making the right decision and protecting my daughter. You’ve really grown into a fine young man.”

Butch scoffed.

“I mean it,” James squeezed his shoulder, “My daughter has always had a mind of her own, but I feel better knowing there’s someone looking out for her.”

“I’m not the kinda guy that should be lookin’ out for her, doc. Don’t ya understand?” He shook off James hand, “I’m a thug, a menace, and a delinquent. If it wasn’t for her in the first place, I’d have never thought twice about knocking you around for a few extra cigs.” 

James laughed, “Don’t you see, my boy? You said it yourself. It’s because of my daughter that you’ve changed, and why I trust you with my life to care for her.”

Butch was lost as ever. He was still no good for her. No one wants their childhood bully watching their back, let alone caring for them. What was he getting at?

James sensed his doubt and sighed, “Butch, try not to think so much.”

“That’s cheap talk coming from a doctor.” 

“You’re right,” he chuckled.

Maybe he had a point. Thinking too much had gotten him into this mess in the first place. A situation he needed to fix. “So, what now?”

“That is the big question. I suppose I’ll need to lay low for a few days. I’ll have Evie spread rumors that I was in an accident of sorts.”

Butch nodded in agreement, “I’ll let security know you won’t be a problem no more.” 

“I really appreciate this, Butch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Butch shrugged and stood to leave, offering James back his icepack.

“Keep it. You need it more than me.”

 

Butch found Evie arched over the clinic’s terminal typing at an alarming pace. She didn’t seem to notice him enter, absorbed in whatever she was working on. He could barely make out the symbols on the screen and figured even if he inched closer it’d still all be gibberish. 

So instead, he chose to lean against the wall and take a moment to admire the sea of red pouring around her shoulders. If only she’d let him style it, the wonders he could do. Just the thought of those soft silky strands coiling around his fingers made his knees weak.

“You ever stop working?”

Butch couldn’t suppress his snickering as Evie tumbled out of her chair in surprise.

She glanced up at him, “Oh, it’s just you Butch.” 

“Yeah, just little ole’ me,” he smirked and offered her a hand.

She took it, and he lifted her back to her feet with ease, noticing her eyes widen as she got a full view of his face, “Oh my God, Butch! Not again.”

He simply shrugged, earning him one of her famous eye rolls.

“You’re a fool, Butch DeLoria,” she scolded, tracing a delicate finger gingerly along the bruise.

He winked, “A handsome one?”

“A troublesome one.” 

He winced as she pressed down hard on his jaw.

“Stop being a baby.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“Did not,” she declared, repeating her previous prodding.

“Ouch!”

“This is what you get for being reckless.”

Butch knew exactly what he got for being reckless. He was staring right at her, and he’d take a thousand punches to the jaw if it meant keeping her safe.


	5. There's Always Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pinch of spice and everything nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst

“Ya think Wally will ever get over it,” Paul mused.

“Hell, if I care,” Butch shrugged, “Just as long as he stops runnin’ his mouth, we won’t have a problem.”

“About that Butch…”

He sighed and passed Paul a cigarette in hopes of shutting him up, “It’s taken care of. No point stressin’ over it.”

“So, you and Evi-nosebleed ain’t,” he gestured the rest of his question with innocent fingers.

“Fuckin’?”

Paul buried two burning cheeks beneath the slip of his collar, “Uh, yeah…that.”

If Butch didn’t recall Mr. Brotch’s sex ed class so vividly, he would’ve thought Paul needed a lesson on the birds and the bees. The kid had the mind of a blushing virgin.

“Nah, we ain’t ever been like that.”

“I mean, it’s just the way you roughed Wally up over what he said. Well…I just ain’t ever seen you like that before.” Paul took a drag of his cigarette to steady his shaky hands, “You don’t need to hide nothin’ from me, Butch. I’d understand.”

The thing was, Butch believed him. He was the kind of guy who stood by his friends no matter the problems they faced. Besides, he knew Paul always got on with Evie when the rest of the gang wasn’t around. It was only natural, the two were the top of their class and shared a mind for tech and all things nerdy. If it hadn’t been for Butch and Wally’s influence in the first place, Paul would’ve been a good kid. 

_Another regret _, Butch thought.__

____

____

“It just ain’t like that, Paul.”

“What’s it like then?”

Butch scratched the back of his head, “Jeez, I dunno. She’s just not the type of gal you mess around with and go on livin’ like it meant nothin’. She’s something…”

“More,” Paul finished.

Butch nodded and they finished the rest of their smoke break in silence.

 

On his way back to playing barber, Butch found himself lost in thought, stopping to kick the wall outside the atrium in frustration. He wasn’t angry at Paul for saying what he did, it was because he knew he was right, and that pissed him off. It was hard enough denying his attraction, but feelings were foreign territory. With Susie it had always been physical, surface level, but with Evie? Well, she just got under his skin in all the good kinds of ways. 

She had a hold of him and _fuck _, was he suffocating.__

____

____

Every touch, every glance, every word she spoke had him drowning and gasping for air. He wanted her.

_No _.__

____

____

He needed her.

The caress of her skillful hands, exploring, discovering, and claiming him entirely; her lips, taunting and teasing, consuming every inch of bare flesh, stripping him down to his core; and her eyes, _damn those eyes _, robbing him of his very soul. He’d let her have all of him and ask for nothing in return.__

____

____

But would she want him?

_You’re a fool, Butch DeLoria _.__

____

____

She was right to call him a fool because that’s exactly what he was. A foolish man, selfish with lust and desire. He was wrong to think she’d ever have him and wouldn’t blame her if she hated him for the rest of her life. God knows he deserved it.

And yet, if it hadn’t been for Evie worming her way into his life recently, he’d be the same egotistical asshole who shoved his pain onto others. If only he’d have taken the time to know her when they were younger, really know her, he may have been saved from himself. 

Instead, he played the bully and kept his distance. It was easier to harass someone you held at arm’s length, ignoring the pain you caused just to express your own.

He wished he could take it back, take it all back. The years of loathing, the years of torment, and most of all the years spent closing his eyes to the light in front of him. He had resented her and yet here she was, his salvation. It was a sick twist of irony that only worsened his guilt. Guilt for all the ways he hurt her in the past, and ways he had yet to. If only he could blame it all on the guilt, it would’ve been so much easier, but deep down he knew it was something-

_More _.__

____

____

“What a mess,” he sighed into his hands. 

“What is?” Evie’s voice shattered his private thoughts.

Butch jerked his head from his hands to find a pair of very curious eyes greeting him. 

“It’s, uh…It’s nothin’.”

Her eyes narrowed, “I find that highly unlikely.”

“What’s it matter,” he shoved his fists in his pockets, and attempted to change the subject, “If ya missed me so much that’s all you had to say, doll. No need stalkin’ me.”

“I’m not stalking you,” she huffed out in frustration, “I just happened to walk by, and well…”

“Well?”

Evie shifted uncomfortably, “Well, I have some time, and I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?”

_Anything _.__

____

____

“Depends. I’m a busy man.”

“Liar,” she poked his chest playfully, and then drew her hands to her tightly wound hair, loosening it until auburn locks spilled down her back. He suppressed the urge to weave his fingers through its deep red. “I’d like a haircut.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. It’s not that he didn’t have the confidence in his skill. Hell, he was the best damn barber in the vault, but Evie made it clear she had no intention of trusting him with such as task.

“You want me to cut your hair?” 

She crossed her arms, “You’re a hairdresser, aren’t you?” 

_Hairdresser _?__

____

____

How dare she insult him like that. Butch DeLoria was no hairdresser. 

“I’m a fuckin’ barber,” he glared down at her, and allowed himself to grasp a strand of that lovely hair between his fingers, tucking it gently behind her ear. Then lowering his mouth until his lips just barely grazed the tip, whispered, “And don’t forget it, sweetheart.” 

She nodded slowly, cheeks growing steadily redder than her hair. 

 

Butch led Evie through the vault halls to a spare storage room transformed into a makeshift barber shop. At the time of the G.O.A.T. exams, there wasn’t technically a vault barber. A few brave souls went to Old Lady Palmer, with her shaky hands, and the rest either did it themselves or suffered through split ends. So, when Butch scored low enough on his G.O.A.T. exam they placed him in an old dusty room with a pair of scissors and called him a barber. It wasn’t all bad, he managed to nick a mirror and chair from a vacant apartment, finding other odds and ends to spruce the place up. Overall, it didn’t look half bad. Maybe it wasn’t quite as clean as the clinic, but it held its own kind of charm.

He watched Evie as she looked the room over, “So this is where you work?”

“Yeah, nothin’ special.”

She turned around grinning, “I really like it! You did this all yourself?”

He shrugged, and her smile widened. “You know you’re allowed to take a compliment from time to time, Butch.”

“Compliment the stolen furniture, not me,” he smirked, but deep down he felt undeserving of the praise. There was so much he needed to make up for before he’d accept her kind words, and that might take a lifetime.

Evie shook her head in defeat but dropped the subject, letting Butch guide her to the empty chair so they could begin.

“So, Evie, what can I do ya for today?”

“Oh, you know, just a little off the top,” she joked.

He decided to play a long, “That all? I can trim that beard of yours if ya want?”

She scowled, “Remind me again why I came?”

“Cuz I’m the best barber in the vault.”

“You’re the only barber.”

He flashed her a mischievous grin, “Guess that leaves ya no choice.”

She groaned.

“I promise not to mess it up. I’m very good at my job,” he mocked.

“Fine,” she sighed then glanced in the mirror with a grimace, “I’m going to say something I never thought I’d say in my entire life. Butch, I trust you to cut my hair. Just fix it please.”

“There’s nothin’ to fix,” he spun her chair around so her back was to him. “I’ll give you a new ‘do, but it’ll look good no matter what.”

He glimpsed forward in the mirror and studied how her gaze refused to meet that of her reflection’s. He didn’t understand, she was beautiful, there was nothing to be ashamed of, and then it hit him.

_I did this _.__

____

____

He gripped the back of the chair to steady himself. He knew he’d hurt her, he was aware of the cruel things he had said, but this? Seeing it up close, the damage he had inflicted, was just too much. 

“Are you alright, Butch? You look a little pale,” concerned eyes met his in the mirror and he immediately dropped his in shame.

“Evie, I…” He didn’t know what to say. What could he? 

Just then, he felt the chair under his palm shift as she turned around to face him, causing him to fall forward against her. She managed to protect herself from his weight by throwing her arms up on impact. He slid to his knees and found himself burying his head in her lap.

A soft hand stroked the back of his neck, “Butch, what’s wrong?”

His grip tightened around her waist, fearing that if he let go, he’d plummet into a pit of despair.

“Evie, I’m so sorry,” his voice came out muffled against her clothing.

“What?”

He released her and dared to meet her gaze. He wondered what she saw in his eyes. Pain? Fear? He didn’t care. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “For everything.”

“Butch-”

He cut her off, “It’s my fault things are fucked up. That I’m a fuck up. I treated you like shit and now I can’t stand it anymore. It’s tearing me apart…”

_You're tearing me apart ___

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____

He didn’t know what he expected; maybe she’d yell at him, punch him, storm off in anger. He deserved all of it. Yet, when the warmth of her lips connected with his, the whole world melted away. All his worries, doubts, and fears dissipated into nothingness, leaving just the two of them stranded in each other’s embrace.

It was such a gentle kiss, the kind Butch wasn’t used to, the kind only found in stories; tender and deep, taking its time to spread through his body, and when it did, he thought he’d burst into flames from the heat.

And just when he thought it’d never end, she pulled away, holding his face in her hands, “Butch, I forgave you a long time ago.”

He stared at her in disbelief, “Why?”

This time she was the one shrugging, “Because deep down I knew there was good in you, and that night you stumbled into the clinic covered in blood, I saw the pain in your eyes. It was the same pain I felt when you used to call me names and push me around. I knew you were hurting, and I realized then how long you must have been suffering.” She paused to trace a thumb along his jaw, “I understood why you acted as you did, and after what you did for my dad, well- I saw you were changing, and I figured I could do with a little change myself.” Then she smiled slyly, “You also let me punch you in the nose. That really helped a lot.”

He shook his head, “Evie, pain ain’t a good enough excuse for what I did.”

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, “Maybe not, but I forgive you regardless of your protests, Butch DeLoria.” 

He stared into those stubborn eyes, and _fuck _did he want to take her right her. Feel her everywhere, kiss her everywhere, and never let go.__

____

____

So, he drew her nearer until she was sitting in his lap, allowing his hands to hover slightly over the small of her back; committing phantom traces to memory as he imagined the feel of her skin on his fingers. 

Then leaning his forehead against hers, uttered, “You’re so beautiful.”

She startled from his words, brows knitting together in confusion, “I- what did you say?”

He pressed his lips to hers then, taking his time to explore their fullness. They tasted sweet under his tongue, like mint and honey. She moaned as he nibbled on her bottom lip, arching her back so her body was now firmly against his own. 

He broke away just before he lost control of his sanity, pushing down the rising fire threatening to erupt and consume them both.

“I said you’re beautiful,” he planted another kiss on her neck this time, lavender invading his senses.

She drew him to her lips, smiling so brightly he thought he might go blind, “That’s what I thought you said.”

“So,” he paused to brush the hair from her face, “What now?”

She tapped a finger to his nose, “Now you give me that haircut you promised.”

He smirked, “And what do I get in return?”

“Depends on how much I like it.”

“Oh, you’ll like it, baby.”

She laughed, and he lifted her to her feet.

 

The rest of the afternoon was spent arguing over different hairstyles until Evie settled on a cut resting just above her shoulders. Butch was sad to see all that hair go, but it was quickly forgotten as the new improved Evie spun in front of the mirror.

“I love it, Butch.”

He grabbed a hand and twisted her into him, pulling her close, “Lookin’ like a dame straight outta the movies.”

“You think?” she winked.

“Ain’t a doubt about it.”

She nuzzled her head against his chest, “Thank you for this, Butch.”

He wrapped his arms securely around her and whispered, “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after! JK

**Author's Note:**

> Do people still read fallout 3 fanfic?


End file.
